


Milky Way

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Series: Navigating the Stars. [5]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Fluff, Minor Angst, Vergil's PoV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: Even Vergil, with all his mental fortitude, can't keep up with taking care of his infant son, while protecting him from all the Underworld will throw at them.  So that's why he's ended up in the most unlikely place, Devil May Cry.





	1. Pricking the finger on the Spindle

**Author's Note:**

> While this can be a stand alone story, with no romance that the rest of the series has, reading Polaris (at least up to chapter 3) may come in handy.

Vergil had driven around the dull red stone building block about half a dozen times. Each time he'd come to the disheveled looking building with the garish flashing neon light, he'd slow down, almost to a stop, before pulling off again. He knew to an outside observer, he looked like he was casing the place, and to be fair, he kind of was. But not to rob the place (not that it's owner kept anything much of value, he guessed), but make sure it was safe. Safe from what? Demons, criminals, and others who would, for the right price, try to cut him down?

No, Vergil was not afraid of that type of vermin anymore, he'd spent over ten years avoiding them, before gaining enough power that they were beneath his notice. He was more concerned what was within that ramshackle brick structure that could barely classify itself as a 'business' let alone a residential building. Or specifically who was in there. When last he saw his brother, they'd been locked in a life and death struggle, and for some reason, despite beating him, his brother thought it wasn't enough, he'd drag Vergil kicking (figuratively) and screaming (literally, not his proudest moment) out of the Underworld. Vergil hadn't, and still couldn't figure out why his younger twin had done such a thing. Had he done it so he could humiliate him more than he had already, more than that snake Arkham had? To force him to be subjugated? Vergil couldn't make heads or tails of how his idiot brother's mind worked (if it did at all). When Dante had the gall to put out his hand in so-called 'friendship', Vergil had turned away and <strike>fled</strike> stormed out of his brother's life, hopefully forever. Of course, things could never be so simple.

A small tingling sound came from the back seat, signalling the silver lining to the way his life had deteriorated. Because, despite his fury at being denied his birthright, he could not deny he had gained something much more valuable, a legacy. There, pawing gently at the hanging toys of the car seat, was his white haired infant, a little more than four months old. For two months, he had adequately (in his mind) taken care of his child, kept him safe, well fed, and comfortable. But even though it seemed that he had gotten his basic needs taken care of, the emotional needs were a bit of....a difficulty. Vergil had never been good at emotions, even before the loss of his family, and the ensuing ten years of self imposed social isolation had honed Vergil into a finely wrought weapon. Useful for fighting, defending, and killing, but little else.

That's not to say he hadn't made some progress. That woman, the woman who had given him Nero, he had enough empathy to feel her pain at giving Nero to his care, (and eternal gratitude). And the past two months, he'd focused on trying to bond with his son, who didn't judge him for his emotional failures. He could never use baby talk with the child, could barely play peekaboo (only reason he forced himself to do so was the book said it was the best way to teach object permanence), and never made silly faces.

But his main worry was that, honestly, Vergil was exhausted. He'd never considered how an infant who could barely roll over on his stomach could take up so much of his time and energy. Even with his demonic stamina, and superhuman willpower, Vergil could feel like he was breaking down. He got, at most, four hours of sleep a day. And that's not because Nero was a fussy baby, far from it (and Vergil thanked his lucky stars for that) but the fact that Vergil could never allow himself a moment of relaxation. Even when asleep, his mind was constantly alert to any danger, demonic or otherwise. There had been some close calls, and each time he'd thought he could allow himself a bit of calm, it had collapsed with the arrival of someone asking too many questions, or he sensed even a single low level demon. He'd hopped around from motel room to hostel, never for more than a few days at a time. People seemed to think there was something off about the single father and his adorable (that's what every female had said about Nero) yet solemn son. Getting official paperwork for the boy was not too difficult, as he had done the same for himself a few years earlier. Keeping his story straight from well-meaning (and not) strangers was a bit harder though. If he had the charisma his brother had, he could have probably hidden behind a charming smile and half-truth, but the truth was, he had as much personal magnetism as Arkham had (how the hell did he manage to get taken in by that abomination, he never could understand.)

So now, here he was, at the door of his brother's place, about to do something that 4 months ago, he didn't even consider a possibility. His physical and mental condition was slagging, and he could not afford that, not for Nero. Ironic, that Dante's place would be the closest to a safe haven for him. His brother's reputation as a master demon hunter had cleared the area of any of the lesser ones, and would allow Vergil time to recuperate, if only for a week. The only issue was Dante. He wouldn't be surprised if his younger twin slammed the door in his face. After all, wouldn't he have done the same?

Finally determining that he couldn't put off the family reunion anymore (his eyelids were beginning to twitch out of fatigue), he pulled up and parked beside the business. Unstrapping Nero's seat belt, he picked up the boy, and held him close to his chest, along with the well worn travel bag. Worse came to worse, he'd practiced fighting with Nero in his arms, first with a weighted sack, and then the infant himself, so he'd be able to fight back and retreat.

He'd made it to the top step, and had almost placed his hand on the large bronze knocker, when without warning, the door was yanked open, revealing a flummoxed and furious Dante, gun drawn out. Obviously his brother had sensed his approach and overreacted (typical Dante). He hadn't fired yet, which was a good sign, but nevertheless, Vergil twisted his body, using it to shield his son and was fingering the tsuba of Yamato.

“You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, brother,” Dante fumed, “Give me one good reason why I shoul-” And that's when Nero began gabbing away. In the past few weeks, he'd began vocalizing much more, and while proper speech was at least a year away, Vergil had enjoyed having 'conversations' with his little boy.

“Gah-rah!” Nero began gumming on his father's shoulder, spreading copious amounts of drool. Vergil tried his best not to flinch at the wetness seeping into his coat.

“I would suggest you put your weapon down, Dante, you wouldn't want your nephew to get hurt”

His brother had gone pale, his eyes jumping from father to son, mouth gaping like fish out of water.

Eventually, his voice came back to him ,“Vergil...” he started, “how did you...”

“I assume you know what happens between men and women when they find each other attractive enough, little brother”

“Har har har,” snarked Dante, regaining some of his characteristic persona, “I mean, who in their right mind would... you know... with you? And where is she? You didn't....”

Vergil scoffed “Don't be daft, Dante, I would never harm the mother of my child. Although she deemed she was not worthy of Nero.” And that's all he was going to say about that to his brother. “I seem to be in a situation where...” how to say this without sounding desperate (not that he was, this was just an expedient solution) “I require a place to stay for no more than a week. And then we'll be on our way.” Nero added a “Bah!” at the end, as a way of a punctuation mark.

Dante hesitated, “What's the kid to you, Vergil? What are you planning for him, because if you're going to use him as some component for another goddamn ritual, I'll personally rip your goddamn head off.”

Vergil rolled his eyes, although Dante did have a point, after all, he had stabbed his identical twin brother in the chest, and it was understandable that didn't endear much trust. It was kind of touching that Dante was concerned about his son's well being. “I have no nefarious plans, unless you think keeping him safe from threats is classified as 'villainous'. Trust me, if I harm a single hair on his head, you can dismember me to your hearts content. And,” he narrowed his eyes “the same applies to you.”

Dante shifted from foot to foot, as if trying to come to a decision. And that's when Vergil played his trump card. Unshielding his son, he allowed Nero to get a good look at his uncle, and vice versa. His son smiled a big toothless grin, and began babbling.  
“Agga...bah geeee”, and Dante was convinced. Opening the door wider, his eyes as wide as teacups, a stupefied grin on his face, he let them both in. Vergil silently nodded his thanks, and carried both his son and the bag (he'd grab Nero's portable crib later, right now he was bone tired.)

The first thing he noticed...was the smell. Greasy pizza, gunpowder, gun oil and, was that cigar? (that puzzled him, Dante didn't smoke, at least he hoped he didn't). The second thing was.... empty greasy pizza boxes, scattered tattered magazines, and cobwebs. It was disgusting, and not remotely good for Nero. But, where to go instead? Vergil, for all his mental fortitude, was desperate for just a few days of rest. So, holding his nose (figuratively speaking of course), he walked in, with Nero babbling constantly and looking around in wonder.

“I don't have a room ready right now, since I was ahhh,” Dante quickly tried shoving some magazines with scantily clad ladies on the covers in an out-of-the-way corner. “I wasn't expecting visitors. I do have the couch,” he moved a couple of the pizza boxes of it, and Vergil had to resist the urge to retch, as he forced himself to sit down on it. Surprisingly, it was comfortable, and if he could just get over the grime, it would function well enough as a bed. He'd slept on worse throughout his life.

Nero tugged on his coat, and began gumming it. Generally, this was a good sign that he was hungry, so Vergil pulled out the bottle of pre-made formula out of the travel bag, and cradling his son, began to feed him. Nero took to the nipple, and started happily guzzling down the contents. This was always a peaceful time for both father and son, and he smiled as Nero gripped the bottle as tight as his fists could hold it. “Slowly Nero, slowly. You'll give yourself gas, and we both know how terrible that can be.” Vergil knew the infant couldn't understand him, but it never hurt to talk to him, to let him experience the English language as much as possible.

He sensed his brother return after his speedy tidying (there was still junk everywhere, but it was tolerable) and felt him sit on the far end of the couch, a safe distance away, his eyes never leaving his nephew.

“So,” Dante began, “how old is the tyke?”

“Four months, give or take a week or two,” Vergil replied tersely, never taking off his eyes of his son. He knew exactly what was going on in Dante's head, and he was already formulating a response for it.

“Wait... so,” Dante's brain, as dull as it was, could do basic math. “He was born just around Temen-ni-gru.... You were going to throw yourself into the Underworld with a kid still here!?” There was justified, if unwarranted anger in his brother's voice.

“I didn't know about Nero,” he snapped back. “I only found out about him after the whole debacle.” he sighed, as he tipped the bottle up so Nero could greedily get every last drop “had I known about his existence...” he hesitated. It felt wrong to reveal anything about his feelings to Dante, where they would undoubtedly be used against him.

He needn't have worried. “....you would never have tried that stunt, would you?” Dante finished his sentence, and Vergil slowly looked up, and was surprised at the sympathetic look on his younger brother's face. “You wouldn't knowingly abandon your son, have him experience the same thing we did.”

Vergil numbly nodded, and pulled the empty bottle out of Nero's still sucking mouth with an audible pop. His son angrily babbled in frustration, so he adjusted the boy on his shoulder, grabbed the tea towel out of the bag, and began to burp him. Nero managed to do release a burp that was much louder than expected from a such a small child, and even through the towel, and his coat, he could feel the spit-up. Two months ago, he would have been throwing his coat straight into the wash after something like this, but now... now he'd gotten used to it, to the point he didn't even notice the smell. “I told you, Nero, drinking so fast would lead to this,” he murmured gently, stroking his son's back and hair.

Obviously it had an effect on Dante, who slapped his knee and laughed. “Wowee, Nero, you make a lot a noise for such a tiny guy!”  
“Pah!” Nero responded, and began to yawn.  
His brother noticed, and smiled, “Aww, little guy looks sleepy. Do,” he looked back at Vergil, “you need a special bed for him or something?”

“No, he has his own crib, but tonight he'll sleep on my chest.” Vergil, in truth was exhausted, and besides, in order to get the crib, he would have to leave Nero with Dante, and even if it was for a few minutes, he didn't trust his irresponsible twin enough to do that. Dante seemed to accept that, and after an exaggerating stretch, yawned, “Well, that's contagious, guess I'll turn in early tonight. Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the right. Tomorrow I'll get the spare bedroom cleared out, you both can sleep there tomorrow. That's okay with you?”

“That will be sufficient. I can compensate you for our stay, if you desire, I know you live on precarious margins”  
“Don't worry about it bro, we're family, we look out for each other, you know?”

Vergil froze, and watched his brother leapt up the stairs....how naive and trusting his little brother was. Nero squirmed a bit, bringing him back to the present. Laying down gently, as not to disturb his half-asleep son, he gently stroked his back and began humming his lullaby. Nero, the angel (ironic) he was, had passed out within a few minutes. Vergil, smiling to himself, kept his arms around his son, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

Vergil awoke to happy babbling. Odd, usually when Nero was awake, he was squirming like a hairless caterpillar, but he was completely still. Actually, he wasn't there at all. Vergil bolted up in a panic, his head scanning the disheveled room for his son.

“Oh really?” he heard Dante speaking from the neighbouring kitchen. “Well, you've got a point there buddy.” More babbling, and slowly Vergil reached for Yamato, lying next to the couch, and stealthily he got up.

Dante continued unaware, “You're a cute guy, didn't think Vergil had it in him to make something so adorable.”

“Gah-Bah!”

“Nah, I don't know much about babies, but I don't think pizza is good for you yet buddy, at least until you get teeth, you're stuck to a liquid diet”

Vergil stalked into the kitchen with barely concealed rage. Of course his brother would take another thing that was his, his alone.

“Oh hi, Verg,” Dante greeted him as he rounded the corner, leftover pizza piece in hand, totally oblivious to his elder brother's feelings. He was holding his nephew with the other arm. “Lil' Nero got up early, and you looked like you could use some more sle-”

“Release. My. Son. Now.” Vergil spat out, shocking his twin. He had expected some resistance, but Dante carefully handed the little bundle over to his father.  
“Jeesh, I was just.. just trying to help...”

“You do not have permission to touch my son.” Vergil said in clipped tones, “If he needs something, you will inform me first, I will take care of him. Understood?”

“But” Dante started, before realizing arguing was pointless “... alright”

In the middle of this, Nero was looking back and forth between the brothers, completely confused. Vergil hadn't set his hair back in his signature style, making him look almost identical to his younger annoying brother. His lower lip startled to tremble, and the slow but steadily increasing wail came from his tiny lungs.

Instantly, Vergil switched his anger to concern for his son. He needed a bottle, a change of diaper. And as he did so, he left a confused, and rather hurt Dante in his wake.


	2. Cracks in Glass

For the past two days, Vergil had spent whatever time he didn't need to take care of Nero, sleeping in the now cleared out bedroom. Not a deep sleep, mind you, but a healthy doze. Nero was content to play in his playpen next to the bed, yelling loudly when he wanted his father's attention. Thankfully Dante had taken Vergil's warning seriously, and while he would occasionally strike up conversations with his nephew, he never picked him up or touched him aside from affectionate rubs on his downy head. Vergil would never admit it, but he was grateful his younger brother didn't stoop to baby talk, while keeping the language clean. So, when Dante woke him from his nap, he didn't expect the worst.

“Hey Verg,” he felt a cautious, yet firm poke on his shoulder, “Either the sewage plant built an addition in this bedroom, or the little guy just let loose a bigger dump than I have ever done after a bad pizza bender. How the hell can you sleep through that smell?”

“Same way you can sleep through the the smell of rancid pizza boxes, little brother.” he said, although by this time, he'd awakened enough to know that, yes, Nero stank to high heaven. He picked up the gurgling boy, and retrieved the diapers and wipes. He remembered his first poop change, it wasn't his proudest moment. Ever the man to revere cleanliness, he had forced himself not to heave that time. Slowly, and steadily, he'd grown accustomed to it, to the point it was second nature.

“I gotta meet with my agent, so I'll be out for a little while. Usually he comes to my place, but he's got a penchant for cigars, and” nodding to Nero, “I'd figured the tyke could do without that stuff in his tiny lungs.” To which, Vergil was grateful. Perhaps he was mistaken about his little brother, he was a lot more thoughtful than his original impression indicated. Although, it could be Nero, the boy had the ability to soften anyone.

Including himself.

Dante coughed (or did he gag?) as he walked out, leaving Vergil to do the dirty work by himself. The nose didn't lie, this was a whopper, and even after two months, it was nearly impossible for him to not wince as he looked at the damage. And not just because of how smelly or dirty it was. It was also the fact that Nero would need a bath.

Vergil hated days like this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He'd read the parenting book front to back, made sure that the temperature of the water was not too cold or hot, dumped toys, sang songs. But Nero. Just. Hated. Baths. The moment he touched the water, he'd scream bloody murder. It may be a good thing that Dante was out, Vergil could only guess what thoughts would go through his brain if he heard his nephew screaming.

He hurriedly made his way to the bathroom with supplies, a bare bottomed Nero (he never knew when the little boy might relieve himself again), and started filling the dingy tub with lukewarm water. Nero already heard the sound of trickling water, and started whimpering. It broke Vergil's heart. He never wanted to cause his son distress, but some things just had to be done.

Once he got a depth of water that would be sufficient, he carefully put Nero in, hoping against hope that this, this would be the time that his boy would realize that, no, his father wasn't trying to drown him, and if not enjoy it, perhaps just relax a bit.

No hope this time, Nero began screaming inconsolably the moment his toes touched the water. The best could do was reassure his son, and make it as quick as possible “Shhhh, Nero, it's alright, it's alright......I've got you, I've got you...” Vergil wasn't sure if he was trying to assure his son, or himself. If he had to roll in mud, get stabbed by his brother, and break Yamato in order to stop his son's crying (all at once), he would have gladly at this moment. All he could do is endure, which for someone of his mental fortitude, was nigh impossible. How his mother had dealt with both him and Dante (who was infamous for his hatred of anything that involved soap) as children, even with her familiars' help was beyond belief. (although there was a funny incident that resulted in a mud splattered six year old Dante being dragged kicking and screaming by Fenris, by the scruff of the neck.)

Gently, he washed the squalling baby, uttering heartfelt assurances, until finally, he was completely clean. As he began to towel the still wailing child, swaddling him a bit, before preparing to soothe him, to tell him that everything was alright, Vergil heard, or rather felt, a powerful demonic presence approaching, quite fast. Vergil, in his haste to get the whole bath time done and over with, had neglected to grab Yamato with him, and he silently cursed himself for his stupidity. All he could do was shield his son, and possibly try to warp away. He hadn't tried warping with his son in his arms, but he knew that eventually, it would be necessary.  
  
**BLAM**

The door was blown clear off its hinges revealing a enraged Dante, complete in Devil Trigger mode, Rebellion in hand. Vergil shielded Nero, who's wailing sharply increased at the sudden noise, and most likely, demonic energy emanating from his uncle.

“Let him go Vergil, or I'll cut your fucking throat” his voice boomed, distorted from the demonic energy.

“Dante...”

“I could feel him screaming a block away, brother, what the hell are you doing to him?” Rebellion was now inches away from Vergil's exposed throat. He forced himself to remain calm, to try to defuse the situation.

“It's alright, Dante, put down the weapon, please.” He rarely used that word with his younger twin, and hoped it was enough. It wasn't.

“Like hell...Let. Him. Go.” The sword began to bite into the sensitive flesh in the hollow of his throat, causing a tiny rivulet of blood to dribble down his chest.

“Dante,” he was all but begging now, “I swear on Mother's grave that I would not intentionally hurt Nero.” the mention of the one thing both sons loved was enough to cause his brother to withdraw the blade, just a little, allowing the cut to heal, but still retaining his Devil Trigger form. “I was,” he hesitated, wondering if Dante would actually believe him, “giving him a bath, which he hates with a passion” Perhaps humour would be helpful “I believe he got that trait from you. Please” he begged again “don't do something you will regret.” Nero's wails had diminished to rapid whimpers, and Dante slowly turned back into his human form. His eyes were wide, and his breathing laboured, as he looked at the wet towels, the bathtub still filled with water, the baby powder, and the new onesie laying on the floor. Vergil could see the realization starting to see to seep into into him, and the guilt began to overwhelm his younger brother.  
“Shit....Vergil...I'm sorry...I just felt him....I could sense him....” Dante looked like he was about to cry.

The elder twin gingerly placed his hand on the younger's shoulder. “It's alright, little brother. It's alright. You were just looking out for Nero. I can understand that feeling.”  
“Gah?” Nero, who had finally calmed down, questioned, reaching out to his uncle. His brother, still breathing heavily, chuckled and allowed his nephew grip his pinky.

“Strong grip there buddy,” he chuckled, calming down, attempting to go back to his more playful persona. Vergil frowned inwardly. He always thought his brother was a carefree, happy-go-lucky, man, who didn't ever have to deal with issues that his elder brother had to, after the fire. Perhaps... perhaps Dante was affected more than he thought.

Slowly, he pulled his son away (earning a disappointed 'Aag' from Nero.), and prepared to dry him off more fully, and to get the diaper on before Nero made the whole bathtime pointless (that had happened far too often) Dante began to slip away, before whistling mournfully at the busted hinges. “Yet another thing I gotta fix around here... hope you don't mind having no privacy for a couple days, Vergil.”

“In a few days we'll be gone, so you won't have to worry about your dignity, what little you have” Vergil responded, attempting to get the fidgety boy into his onesie. He glanced up at his brother, just in time to see what looked like, was that sorrow?... flash over his face, before being replaced for his trademark grin. A minor insult like that wouldn't affect full-of-oneliners Dante like that, would it?

******

After a few days of relative peace and rest, Vergil was almost back to his normal self. He slept less, and didn't feel so drained while awake. He could afford to do other things while Nero played in his playpen, and even now, while the little boy dozed contentedly, sprawled out on the fuzzy blanket at his father's feet.

Dante was in the back, most likely trying to fix the bathroom door, and was doing a good job at remaining quiet at it, surprisingly enough. He'd done a pretty good job at keeping quiet the past few days, no jukebox, and no bangs or slams in the kitchen. Occasionally, Vergil could hear him curse as he attempted some fix-it method that wasn't quite working. Had he not been keeping an eye on his son, he would have aided his brother, but Dante had brushed him off. At the very least, he had given Dante some much needed money to help repair (after practically threatening his younger twin with a skewering to accept the damn cash), seeing as it was partially his fault.

A dull thump, followed by a “Son of a..” echoed down the hallway, and Vergil smiled to himself, wishing to see what mess Dante had gotten himself into, but he was still a bit paranoid about leaving Nero, even a sleeping Nero, unattended on the floor. So he resigned himself to sitting on the now much better smelling (Had Dante cleaned it?) couch, reading a book, occasionally stealing glances his son, still sleeping, with the occasional twitch.

The front door chimed, which was odd, since he was certain that Dante had turned the 'open for business' sign off. Though, knowing his little brother, he probably forgot to turn the damn sign.

“Hey Dante,” a feminine voice came from behind him, familiar...where had he heard it before? “You left Morrison hanging with that last job offer, so yeah, I had to pick up your slack. Your welcome, by the way, you jerk”

Ahhh, now he recalled the voice, a bratty girl, still a teenager, who like Dante, acted before thinking (and just like his brother, she probably didn't think at all either) Lady, that was the name she went by now, he remembered. She apparently confused him with his brother, another point in the whole 'probably doesn't think' column.  
“So what was the big deal where you had to leave Morrison high and dry like that? I thought you were desperate for cash, how else are you going to fix your god-” she stopped as Vergil turned his head as he placed the book on the couch, prepared to hear a tongue lashing from the girl.

“You...” she hissed, her distinctive odd coloured eyes narrowed.

“Hello Lady,” he greeted her sardonically, as he got off the couch, automatically standing between her and his slumbering infant.

“You've got a lot of nerve,” (she sounded just like Dante, how terribly unoriginal) to show up here after what you did to Dante. After all he did to get you out.... he should have let you rot in that place!”

What did she mean by that? He was busy processing her statement when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. His eyes shot back up, looking straight down the barrel of he gun. For Dante's place being a safe haven, this would be the third time in less than a week he'd had weapons pointed at him.

He could feel his brother, who had probably heard the commotion, approaching down the hall, most likely not realizing yet that weapons had been drawn. Vergil remained calm, but kept his hand surreptitiously on Yamato.

“Put your weapon down,” he stated. He wasn't going to lower himself and beg, as he did to his brother, not to her. “I won't hesitate to strike you down, regardless if you're a friend of my brother, Mary”

In hindsight, Vergil realized that occasionally, he acted before thinking, just like his Dante. Her eyes widened at the mention of her old name, and all she could say was “You son of a bitch” before pulling the trigger.

Vergil felt time contract, and grabbing firmly, he unsheathed Yamato. Dimly, he was aware of his brother's presence rapidly approaching from the hallway, now alert to the danger. His katana sang in the air, as it neatly connected with the bullet, splitting it nearly in half, and causing one half to fly to the left and embed into the wall, right into a magazine picture of a lady in a bikini. The other half didn't quite divert as much, and grazed his right cheek, leaving a path of burning pain, before embedding into Dante's jukebox, shattering the glass.

Vaguely, he heard two things. Dante yelling “Lady! Put the gun down!”

And his son screaming.

His attention focused solely on his little boy, terrified that he'd been hurt in the firefight. He couldn't smell any blood other than his own, so he assumed that it was merely the sound of the gun that startled Nero, but the his son continued to shriek in fear, shaking like a leaf.

Vergil does not panic. He hasn't panicked since he was eight years old. He is a logical, calm, collected, cool young man, who only does what is necessary. So, he didn't panic as he went to check his son, he didn't panic as he picked him up, gripping him tightly, didn't panic when his eyes met Lady's widened eyes, didn't panic as he heard his younger brother calling his name. And he definitely didn't panic as he warped out of the room, leaving everything, blanket, toys, and travel bag laying on the floor. He didn't panic as he found himself next to his car, and rapidly placed his screaming son into the car seat, buckling him up and getting into the drivers seat.

The next thing he knew, he was in the parking lot of a nearby park, thankfully deserted. Nero was still upset, squalling, and he had barely turned off the ignition before unbuckling the child, trying his best to console his son.

“Shhhh... Nero...It's alright...it's alright, I've got you...your father has you” he held him close to his chest, rubbing his back, and gently bouncing him. He began walking towards a bench, one that gave a wide line of sight for anyone approaching. A decade of constant vigilance, of constant reliance of only himself allowed him to tap into his instincts. He would keep himself safe. He WOULD keep his son safe.

He couldn't go back to his brother's. He had been stupid, gotten complacent, and relaxed too much. There was just as much danger there as the rest of the world. What a fool he was to think it was a safe haven. The main issue was the stuff he left behind. He had a small diaper bag with basic supplies in his car, but the majority of Nero's stuff was still at Dante's. Obviously, he'd have to replace the supplies, but he wasn't too particularly attached to most of it. The only thing he would miss was the child development book that woman had given to him on that day, over two months ago.

At the thought of her, he wondered if, perhaps he should return to her. While her place wasn't safe from demons like Dante's place was, he could trust her with Nero, giving him some sense of security She would obviously be thrilled to see Nero.

Almost as soon as the thought popped into his head, he discounted it. Demons would obviously be attracted to their location, and while he could protect his son, he wasn't sure he could protect her. No need to risk her safety for a temporary sense of peace. Also, he would eventually have to leave with his Nero, and he knew that would break her heart. Vergil may not care for anyone outside of his family, but strangely, he seemed to feel something for her.

Nero was beginning to calm down, his cries dissipating to broken hiccups. Vergil continued holding his son close to his chest, gently kissing his crown. “everything is fine....everything will be fine... I will protect you”

He sat there for almost an hour, just calming his son, and mentally planning what to do. From a distance, he heard the drone of a loud motorcycle. It approached, before slowing down, and parking beside his car. Vergil stiffened as he saw the red clad passenger hop off, and the motorcycle peeled off, going way above the speed limit.

Dante walked over, attempting to be casual, and failing miserable at it. He stopped a few metres in front of Vergil, apparently to look for signs that his elder brother would attack, but right now, Vergil was too worried that his son would begin to cry again. Besides, Dante had no weapons (which was a surprise) and even though he could physically fight, Vergil had the advantage with the Yamato. After a few moments, his younger twin sat down on the bench, as far as possible.

“How did you find me?” Vergil asked dully. Whatever energy he had regained in past few days had been fully spent.

“You're nothing if not predictable, brother.” Dante smiled softly, without any malice “I remember when we were kids, every time we fought about something and Mom or Dad or Athena had to break us up, you'd run off to the nearby park to calm down, or sulk... I could never tell.” He leaned back, lost in a memory.

Dante wasn't wrong, he and his brother didn't fight often as children, but when they did, the results could be catastrophic. So Vergil would always <strike>flee</strike> go to the playground to calm down, where eventually, hours later in the evening, his mother would eventually arrive to take him back home.

_Except for the last time..._

No, he would not dwell on that. He was already emotionally depleted, he didn't need anymore of that right now.

“So,” Dante said with fake casualness, “I told Lady it would probably be best for her safety to keep a wide berth from my place for the foreseeable future. Around 300 kilometre radius should be good.” He watched for Vergil's reaction, but got nothing. “For what it's worth, she's really sorry for what she did, once I explained why you were at my place. She might be pissed at you, but she would never hurt Nero.” He looked down at his nephew, who had finally calmed down, and was dozing against Vergil's chest. “How's the little guy doing. He wasn't hurt.... right?” There's a tone of worry in his voice.

“Not injured, just startled” Vergil spoke simply, continuing to rub his son's back.

“So...” Dante started hesitatingly, “You want to give me a ride back? Lady just dropped me off and while I could walk back, it's a pain in the neck.”

Vergil took a deep breath, held it in for a bit, before letting it out slowly. Dante wouldn't lie about Lady, he was too honest for his own good.Perhaps, he had overreacted, and at the very least, he could go back to pick up Nero's things, maybe stay overnight, and then with a clear head, figure out where to go from there. He slowly rose up, making sure he didn't disturb his sleeping boy. “I suppose,” he said, I can give you a ride back. If you walk back by yourself, odds are you'll get distracted and purchase something you don't need.” Dante didn't even seem offended at the insult, but seemed incredibly releived. How odd. But this was Dante, who knew what was going on in his head, if anything at all.

And then, without warning, his younger brother slung an arm around his shoulder (Vergil didn't flinch, he must be tired... and surprisingly, it felt...comforting), and both Sons of Sparda made their way to the car, and then to...home.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda base infant!Nero on my own kid, who absolutely. hated. baths.


	3. A Lovely Day for a Picnic at the Park.

_The sky looks wrong_, Vergil thought, looking at the dark red atmosphere, devoid of any stars or even the moon. The ground was wrong as well, far too rocky and devoid of any plants, animals, or even insects. It reminded him of the no-man's land that World War One books would show. But instead of the sound of shells, gunfire, or yells of soldiers, there is nothing but the wailing of the wind.

Wait... it wasn't the wind, it was the wailing of a baby.

NERO!

He began running in what direction he thought his son was, but every few metres, the direction would change, first to his left, then right, than behind him. Vergil was getting more and more panicked. He had to find his son, to keep him safe. This place, whatever it was, exuded a miasma of dread, and he needed to get Nero out of here. He tried sensing for his son, but for some reason, he couldn't feel anything, aside from the chill in his bones. But Nero cries were unmistakable to him, so he continued his frantic search.

Finally, he saw the contrast of brilliant white against the dull grey rocks, and with a burst of speed, warped to him. Aside from his son's bawling, he seemed unhurt, praise be. “Hush Nero...hush.. I've got you, you're safe” He rested his head on his son's downy soft head, occasionally giving it feather light kisses as Nero ever so slowly calmed down.

So focused was he on soothing his his son's distress, he never felt the malevolent presence approaching. Or was it even an approach? Because he saw nothing, but heard a deep voice that seemed to echo in his skull. Apparently it wasn't just him, because Nero ramped up his screams of terror.

“**What do we have here? A Son of Sparda and his....spawn. Daring to intrude into my realm. Such arrogance.”**

Vergil whipped his head around, trying to locate the origin of the sound, but much like his son's wails, it seemed to come from all directions. Supporting his son with one hand, he went to grab Yamato, only to find in his horror, that it was no longer at his side. He tried remembering where he could have possibly have put it. The voice was making his memories of the past very fuzzy.

“**Such weakness, Sparda was a fool to defy me, to ally with humanity. And yet,” ** and now Vergil could see something, a trio of red crackling lights in the sky, which increased in intensity when the entity spoke. While he couldn't place the voice, the malicious aura was familiar. **“It appears that my minions were not even capable of eliminating Sparda's broodlings. And like insects, they seem to have multiplied, when not fully eliminated”**

Vergil's blood froze in his veins..._Mundus. _ Here he was, weaponless, facing off against the so called Emperor of the Underworld. He couldn't fight, he needed to get out of here, at least to keep Nero safe... to get-

_Thunk!_

The breath was stolen from him as a shard of the abyss stabbed through his back, erupting through his chest, barely missing his son. He could taste blood, could feel it rushing up his throat, blocking his airway as it spewed out of his mouth. At the same time, tendrils of obsidian ooze wrapped around around his legs, pinning in place. Another pair of tentacles shot out of the ground, one wrapping around his right arm, squeezing it so tightly, he could feel his bones cracking. The other... went for his son. He tried to cling to Nero, but another shard impaled through his stomach, the shock causing him to release his screaming boy.

Through the red haze of pain, he saw the tendril gripping Nero, surprisingly not as tightly as he feared it would. He used his remaining free arm to weakly reach out to his son, trying to scream his name, but the only sound he could make was a choking sound, as more blood gushed out.

“**The Son of Sparda is far too weak.... but the grub....yes, the grub could be useful. Let it not be said that I waste what has been freely given to me”**

Vergil wanted to break free, to grab his son, to scream at Mundus to let the boy go, to do whatever he wished to himself, but his body, wracked in pain, would not obey him. One more growth shot out and wrapped around his outstretched arm, snapping his forearm. Why Mundus hadn't killed him yet, he had no idea.

Then to his horror, the tendrils holding Nero vomited forth an ebony substance, coating his son in inky darkness. His child's frightened squalls intensified as it crept up his tiny body. Vergil could do nothing to protect his son. Mundus was right, he was weak, it was hopeless...he'd failed...

*******

Vergil woke up with a start, heartbeat pounding in his chest, his breaths coming out in panicked gasps, his eyes darting back and forth in terror. Instantly, he bolted out of bed, and practically ran to the playpen, leaning over it in fear.

Nero, to his relief slumbered peacefully, arms and legs sprawled out like a passed out drunk, breathing normally, perfectly safe. He was safe. Vergil brushed back his hair with his hand, trying to control his breathing, to slow his racing heart. He walked back to the bed, sat down on the edge, and began to attempt to meditate, to try to calm down. But what had just transpired, what he had experienced was just too real. The echo of the taste of blood was still on his tongue, and his arms felt numb, as they usually did after he healed an injury. He hadn't experienced something like this in a long time, and he had hoped that with the power he had accumulated he wouldn't have to suffer this affliction again, this-

“Nightmare?”

  
Vergil's head shot up as he saw Dante's silhouette leaning against the doorway. His posture seemed relaxed, but the elder twin could sense the tension in his frame, especially as he held up his hands, to show he was unarmed. “I could sense your heartbeat pounding all the way upstairs Verg. And you tell me my jukebox is too loud.” a soft chuckle “Well, you can't complain about that now, seeing as it's got a half a bullet lodged in it.” Dante's face went serious, “Wanna talk about it?”

“No” came Vergil's clipped reply. What use was it to rehash such a traumatic weakness? His brother would never let him hear the end of it.

Dante seemed to accept his response, and after checking his nephew, came over to the bed, and with a slow, calculated action, sat next to his brother. Vergil didn't bother to make eye contact, preferring to focus on the sleeping infant through the playpen's mesh.

“You know,” Dante said, mirroring his action, “I get nightmares all the time. Some of them are stupid in hindsight, like the time all the pizza places in town went out of business” he let out an amused huff. “Some of them aren't that great, like the day of the fire. I just keep dreaming the same thing over and over again, Mom shoving me into a closet, telling me to hide, that she loves both of us, before going off to find you. And no matter what, it always ends with a scream, and I'm too scared to leave the damn closet to protect her”

Vergil's gaze slowly left his sleeping son, and turned to his brother, whose eyes were distant and solemn, such a contrast to the jovial personality that usually annoyed him. _Mother tried to save me?_ Guilt clawed at his chest. Had he not ran off to the park to cool down, perhaps his mother would have been able to save them all.

“But the worst nightmares are of things that have never happened.” Dante continued, apparently oblivious to his brother's turmoil. “Every so often, I dream of that time four months ago” Vergil knew exactly what he was talking about, “except that this time you won't let me stop you from falling. You even cut the palm of my hand to keep me from grabbing you. Dante rubbed the palm of his hand, idly, as if he could still feel it. “And you know what's worse? It's the dream that always comes right after that. I'm fighting this big bulky armoured dude, and he's kicking my ass, which isn't something that happens to me often. He's choking me out, but then sees my amulet....and lets me go. That should be my clue that something's off about this guy. But dream-me is just as stupid as real life me...” His breathing stuttered, “I don't know why he does that, but I don't pass up the opportunity, so I stab him....” Dante's eyes were wet, and he looked at Vergil “His helmet comes off....and it's you. I killed you, and I didn't even know it until it was too late.”

Vergil stared, almost unable to believe what he heard. To think that his flippant little brother, the one that always seemed so positive about everything, was suffering the same things that he was, just about different topics.

Dante took a deep breath, and his shoulders rose up, as if a great weight had been lifted. “Letting that out felt a lot better... couldn't talk to Lady about shit like that. She's a good partner, but some of the stuff, only drinking whisky, or talking to family really helps.”

Vergil paused. Should he say anything? He'd carried his burdens by himself for so long, and yet, they never got easier to bear. Perhaps sharing the load would help. At the least it wouldn't hurt, not while Dante had revealed that he had the same issues that he did, so perhaps, they weren't so different?

“I...also” he hesitatingly started speaking “also have dreams of Mother. Similar to yours, but from my perspective. Finding her body, screaming your name....feeling so alone.” It hurt, but like lancing a boil, the pain seemed to dissipate. But he was not quite done yet, “Tonight, I dreamt that Mundus attacked Nero and I, and...” he took a deep breath, “he took my son, Dante, he took my baby boy” Though his breathing was erratic, he would not stoop to crying, he still had his pride. To his surprise, Vergil felt a warm hand on his leg, and looked up at his younger brother, who had a sympathetic look on his face.

“He won't,” Dante said confidently, “You and I won't let him... We're the Sons of Sparda right? We protect our family.”

Oh how Vergil wanted to agree, wanted to make this dingy, rundown, cozy, safe place a home. But he knew that eventually, his enemies would come, and while he would never admit it to his brother, he didn't want Dante the chance to get hurt. No, better to keep on the run, never staying in one place too long, keep the target off of his younger brother, and never allow Mundus's minions to lock down on his location.

Dante evidently could read his face, and his own confident smile dropped down, crestfallen. “Don't leave, Verg... please?” his voice sounded so much like that eight year old that Vergil loved to play with.

“You know I can't stay little brother,” Vergil attempted a smile to reassure him, which failed miserably. “I have to keep on the move, that's how I've stayed alive for the past decade, it's the only way I can keep Nero safe.”

<strike>And you, Dante</strike>

The unspoken words seemed to reach across to Dante, who sighed, defeated. At least his brother knew when to not argue. “How much longer are you planning to stay here then?” he asked.

“Probably until tomorrow.”

“And where will you go? I know you always have a plan”

“It's best I keep that a secret, I know how you like to talk” (In truth, Vergil had no idea.)

Dante grumbled as he got off the bed “Fiiine. At least let me say goodbye the little bugger before you go”

“Of course”

Dante began to leave the bedroom, but then stopped at the doorway, and turned around slightly. “You know,” he suggested hopefully, “my place is always open, you don't even have to call ahead. And I promise I won't greet you with a gun cocked to your head.”

“I accept your invitation. But it may not be for a while, and it may be in dire circumstances.”

Dante chuckled, “Hey, I know how to handle demons there, Vergil. You just focus on keeping the little guy safe and happy. And yourself. You deserve happiness too.” And with that, Dante left, mostly likely back to pass out in his bed, leaving Vergil alone with his sleeping son....and his thoughts.

Several hours later, Nero had awoken, and after his customary diaper change and bottle, he lay on his blanket playing (and drooling) with a stuffed t-rex that Dante had bought for him that week. His father began packing up everything, the playpen, toys, blankets, bottles. It was still early in the morning, and only the slightest hint of light in the east indicated that morning was approaching. Vergil could sense his brother, still fast asleep, (and probably sprawled out like his nephew did), but he had to move quickly. If he was caught leaving like this, before he could explain himself, odds were that a fight would break out.

After making sure everything was packed up, he slung the travel bag onto his shoulder. But not before leaving a small handwritten note on the (made, he wasn't some barbarian to leave it a mess) bed.

_ **Dante,** _

_ **Meet us at the park where we were earlier this week by noon.** _

_ **Bring your weapons.** _

_ **Then we'll settle the matter.** _

_ **Sincerley,** _

_ ** Vergil** _

He knew Dante would check the bedroom the moment he realized his brother and nephew were gone. And assuming he knew how to read cursive, he had no doubt his twin would make the appointment. And with that, he swung the playpen onto his back, wrapped up Nero, and silently left the business.

******

Vergil made sure the park was deserted that morning. If you were a human, off to walk your dog that day, something about the park just made your pet skittish. If you were planning to take your toddler to the playground, your child would suddenly have a full blown tantrum before they reached the grass. If you wanted to get some light reading done on your work break, you'd somehow come to the conclusion that despite the sunny April weather, the book would be better read in a cozy cafe, with your favourite latte at your side. Vergil's demonic aura made sure of that.

Thankfully, it didn't effect Nero at all, as he dozed in his detatchable carseat, completely oblivious at the care his father was putting into motion. He'd had his bottle, been cuddled, and snuggled, even had a bit of peekaboo (“Oh dear, your father seems to have disappeared, where could he be?) and now was enjoying his mid morning nap. Surprisingly that wasn't interrupted, when Dante, slightly out of breath from running, showed up.

“What the-” he was shushed by Vergil who frowned at him and pointing at his son “What the hell are you up to Verg” he hissed, “You just leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, and leave me a vaguely threatening note? What's your game here?”

“Not a game, little brother. Something quite serious.” Dante frowned, and Vergil could sense the demonic tension in him, like a tiger ready to pounce. "You wish to protect Nero?” At that, the tension ramped up even more, with Dante obviously jumping to conclusions, as per usual. (He couldn't fault him with the earlier bathtub debacle, his son's cries would do the same to him.) “Fight me. If you win, we'll stay, on the condition you clean up your place, and you permit me to participate in your business, I refuse to be a leech.”

“And if you win?” Dante queried.

“Nero and I will leave, and you may not see us for a while.” his brother tried to interrupt, but Vergil held up his hand to silence him “I will attempt to bring him over as often as possible, but I only will when I am certain it is safe to do so” _For both you and him,_ was left unspoken.

Dante shuffled from foot to foot, glaring at Vergil, then glancing longingly at his nephew. “Alright, but first...” he withdrew Ebony and Ivory, placed them gently, as if they were Nero themselves, on the ground.

Vergil cocked his head in puzzlement “You would handicap yourself for this fight?”

“Can't risk a stray bullet around the tyke, Verg” Dante explained, as it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Very well, shall we begin?” he asked. Dante nodded, and the battle commenced. Blades clashed, and if any demon had been attracted to Vergil's aura earlier, the sound of two demons fighting with all their might would discourage them from interfering. Vergil, with his usual finesse, played defensively, with a small part of his attention remaining on his son. He was certain that if Nero required something, his brother was more than willing to work out a temporary truce. But Nero slept through the smell of grinding metal, and the sound of clashing blades as if it was his grandmother's lullaby.

Dante, unlike his older brother, played on the offense. Despite lacking his long ranged weapons, he still got in Vergil's face more often than he expected. And slowly, swing by swing, the tide turned.. in his favour.

Vergil wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually he left himself open a little too long, and received a foot to the stomach, knocking him back several metres into a tree. Before he knew it, he felt the bite of Rebellion in his shoulder.

“I think,” Dante said between laboured breaths, “I've made my point” he chuckled at his joke as he looked at his blade.

“Yes, it appears you did” Vergil attempted to hide his grimace of pain, “now would you kindly remove your sword,” Nero, if on queue started waking up and cooing, and Vergil knew he had a limited amount of time before his son would get very, very vocal. “it appears your nephew is also in agreement.”

Dante game him a full blown smile, removed Rebellion from it's temporary sheath, and outstretched a hand to his elder brother. Vergil attempted not to wince at the pain as he got up (and failed miserably) walked over to the carseat. Nero's face lit up at the sight of his father, and he gurbled happily. Carefully, he began to lift him up, before pausing.

“Dante,” he called out, and his brother, who was doing some sort of victory dance with his recently reacquired firearms, looked up at him, “my shoulder appears to still be a bit of pain, would you,” he hesitated for the briefest moment, “would you like to hold him?”

Dante's eyes lit up as if Vergil had asked him if he would like a pizza, and had to restrain himself from sprinting up to grab his nephew. “Careful now, watch his head” Vergil carefully passed Nero to his uncle.

“Relax Vergil, he's as safe with me as he is with you,” his brother chuckled, and as the child was being passed over, he murmered, “I know you threw the fight, brother” he didn't make any eye contact with Vergil, but kept his eyes on the little bundle in his arms, gently bouncing the boy.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Dante” Vergil said stiffly. “I merely wanted to make sure that you valued the safety of Nero as much as I did.   
“Your dad's a horrible liar, kid,” Dante smiled, and Nero responded with a definitive “Gah!”. Dante laughed, and punched Vergil in the shoulder “See, the kid agrees with me! Oh...and look,” another punch in his shoulder, right where only a few minutes ago, Rebellion had been sticking out of. Vergil didn't flinch. “Your shoulder is back to normal! That's pretty quick, even for our fast healing”

Vergil rolled his eyes, and went back to grab the empty carseat. “Enough of this, shall we make our way,” another pause, “home?”

Dante's grin softened to a happy smile. “Yeah, let's go home... as one happy family”

And as both Sons of Sparda walked back to Vergil's car in lockstep, along with their weapons, and their most precious item, Vergil couldn't help but smile.

  
“Yes....a family”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of the series....for the foreseeable future. I may come up with more stories, but I'd like to keep this on a nice happy ending. This past month and a half has been a whirlwind of writing, thinking, reading reviews, and studying ways to get better at my craft.
> 
> I appreciate every single one of your Kudos, as if they were Baby Nero themselves. I adore all of your comments like Dante loves pizza. 
> 
> But I would like to especially than Sychron, who's enthusiastic support got me off my butt and writing this series. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. (and she writes very good stories as well, you should read them, especially if you like Vergil/Reader stories, and ESPECIALLY if you like SEXY Vergil/Reader stories)
> 
> For those who like this story, and are interested in writing, but nervous about it, my piece of advice is to Just. Do. It. Writing for the DMC fandom (and myself) has made me really happy!
> 
> Thanks a bunch!
> 
> \---  
LadyMuzzMuzz.
> 
> PS. My tumblr is   
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/queenmuzz   
If you're interested in DMC related stuff, including stories, art, and headcanons.


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